The Fallen Assassin, James Holmes [best management books of all time TXT] 📗

Chapter One

The Façade

It was on the cusp of midnight that Pan felt an uncontrolled feeling of hatred and pain coil around his gut. It was a sensation he was unused to having, because the upbringing he had suffered through had hardened his emotions and only the most desperate of situations stirred a response from him.

He lifted a hand to wipe the trails of sweat from his chiseled face, briefly letting his fingers shield his eyes from what lay before him. He was stood in the midst of a massacre that filled the street of burning buildings, grimacing at the screams and yells that echoed through the crackling of the rampant flames.
The air was laced with smoke that stung his sapphire eyes, but he dared not wipe away the tears that streaked his cheeks; they were a sign of his grief and he left them for all to see. Unable to comprehend what had happened in this once great city, his sword dropped from his trembling hand and clattered to the ground by his feet.

‘How could she do this?’ He whispered, his voice low and heavy. He looked up to see the sliver of moon was crisp and white, and the stars were like scattered diamonds across the velvet sky. ‘These were good people!’ He screamed into the night.

He panted fiercely with rage, waiting intently for a response and when he got none, he grudgingly looked back at the crumbling ruins of Lanolak. The city had not always been this way; it was once a fruitful centre of commerce, but a war had raged in these parts for many years now, a war that was instigated by Queen Iradeth and her Sorcerer. They were the most powerful duo the Western Lands had ever seen and the sworn enemy of the Tanus Clan, of which Pan was betrothed.

The Queen herself was not unlike any other woman from around these parts; ungainly and driven mad by her own contempt and thirst for power, but it was in having possession of the fateful Sorcerer that her military advances were unmatched and unprepared for. She was unstoppable because the Sorcerer had the ability to see the future in perfect clarity; he could roll back his eyes and scream to the Heavens; desecrating the barriers that kept time in place and laying witness to the events that were yet to come. He was the powerful one; and the one Pan was here to kill.

He had been tracking the Queen for weeks, as he had been instructed by Jolende, the Leader of the Tanus and the man that had taught Pan everything he knew; raised him from a child into the assassin he had become. His orders to Pan were clear; Iradeth had laid waste to these lands for too long now, destroying the homes and cities of fair people in order to prolong her reign. She was evil; pure and simple and she needed to be stopped.

Pan had lost Iradeth and her army soon after they entered the Erward Forest, a tangled jungle of ancient trees, where their weighty boughs formed a canopy so dense it blocked out all light and cast the forest floor in a dismal twilight.

He had heard dire tales of the place, and unwilling to venture into the woods alone, he returned to the Tanus only to hear of the attack on Lanolak. He left in a hurry; taking no provisions with him he spurred his horse at breakneck speed across the Plains of Amun but arrived in the city far too late. The battle had already ended, and the Queen and her army were now safe within the Fortress walls.

Still standing in the ruins of the outer city, Pan hung his head in despair and stared down at his blood-stained hands. If only he had ventured on alone; if only his fear of the Erward Forest had not forced him to retreat like a coward he would have been able to stop Iradeth and her assault. The fate of Lanolak was on his shoulders now, burdened to him like a child without kin. He could not save the city now, but he could save all others from the same demise.

‘She will not get away with this,’ he snarled through gritted teeth. ‘I will end the reign of this malevolent Queen.’

He clenched his fists tight, inhaling deep breaths of acrid air in an attempt to encourage his bravery and bide the nerves that stung his heart. Smearing the tears from his face, he picked up his sword and slid it into the sheath on his back. He glanced around the street one last time, building his thirst for vengeance and when he had seen enough to heighten the adrenalin surging through his veins, he pulled the hood up over his head of long ebony hair and disappeared into the shadows.

He needed only to follow the trail of destruction to the Fortress in the centre of Lanolak; a mighty stronghold that once served the rightful King of these parts. Now Pan assumed that the King was dead, and if that was the case, then the men he saw loitering outside the Fortress walls must have been under Iradeth’s rule.

A troop of the guards filled the entirety of the bridge which crossed the moat, surrounding the Fortress in a river of dank, brown water. The huge oak doors behind the men were barred, and without causing great alarm Pan knew he would find no easy way into the citadel from there.

Swathed in the shadows of the surrounding buildings he scoured the Fortress with his keen eyes, contemplating another form of entry. Eight looming octagonal towers stood at regular intervals, rising from the massive walls and surrounding the central keep that rose even higher into the dark sky.

Seeing no other way in but to scale the walls, Pan moved quickly and slipped into the still waters of the moat, keeping watch on the party of guards on the bridge. The water was warm and slimy, and as his feet graced the bed he felt reams of reeds entangle his legs. Even so, he fought through the murky waters relentlessly, his black, woollen cloak weighting him so immensely he struggled to stay afloat as he moved deeper into the moat.

He reached the walls and planted his hands flat against the cold grey stone, pausing to catch his breath. He looked up at the battlements that stood almost fifty feet above him to find a cold sense of despair settle into the pit of his stomach. He had no time for such feelings of anguish, he had already faltered once on this mission and the result had meant the death of hundreds.

Taking no notice of the fear that swelled inside him, he reached up out of the water and gripped the top of a stone with the tips of his fingers. Pulling himself up, he found difficulty in finding suitable hand and foot holes in the worn stonework, which meant his climb to the top was longwinded and plagued with times of which he needed to backtrack and choose another path.

His cloak slowly dried on his ascent, the brown water pouring from the material and splattering down upon the peaceful surface of the moat. The noise was incredible the higher he climbed and if it weren’t for the sounds of the aftermath of battle filling the night air he would surely have been heard.

When he finally reached the summit his muscles felt as though they were on fire. Rabid bursts of pain exploded in his arms and legs and caused so much discomfort that he could barely comprehend his plan of action.

Panting and weak he peeked up over the merlons, to find that the battlement was empty of guards. A thankful sigh escaped his lips as he threw himself over onto the walkway and fell to the floor in a heap. He gasped for air as the sweet relief of solitude brought comfort to his aching body, wincing from the pain as it tortured him.

He stayed there for as long as he could allow, giving his muscles time to heal and his breathing to resume its normal pace and it was only when he felt himself fit that he clambered to his feet and headed towards the nearest tower, staring down at the hive of activity that had engulfed the Fortress.

He pulled open the door to find a curved stairwell lay before him; the lanterns that hung on the wall were dazzling and bathed the stairs in a flickering orange light. He heard no sound of footsteps or voices from above or below, so shut the door quietly behind him and started his descent down the winding staircase.

As he grew further down, faint voices drifted up towards him and he slowed, stopping completely when two guards came into view. They were both well built men, with harsh, rugged faces and hair that shimmered like a glacier. It was long and ashen and it tumbled from beneath their worn helms down onto their shoulders. They wore armour of burnished steel that still bore the scars of battle and gleamed in the iridescent light from the lanterns. They spoke quickly in rough, husky voices, and Pan honed his ears to determine what was being said.

‘Queen Iradeth has informed me that she fears for the Sorcerer’s safety, so warrants that I seek more protection,’ the slightly taller of the two guards said.

‘Do not tell me that I have to spend the rest of the night pacing beyond the door to the quarters waiting for dusk to break?’ The other replied, growling as he spoke.

‘It is under Iradeth’s orders, do not question it.’

‘As you wish.’ He bowed gracefully. ‘Where is the Sorcerer?’

‘The eastern wing of the keep, on the third floor; make haste.’

Pan stayed close to the guard the entire way across the courtyard, and onwards into the central keep. He kept to the shadows, out of sight of the rest of the guards that milled about the Fortress. They seemed lost; having already fulfilled their task in battle, they had little else to do but wait for more orders and the notion didn’t settle well.

By the time the guard reached the third floor of the keep, the hallway was bustling with activity, and Pan found he was outnumbered by almost a dozen. He could not fend them all off without attracting attention and even more armed guards, so the moment Pan stepped out into the hall, he leapt up onto the beams that supported the vaulted ceiling and disappeared into the darkness that lingered there.

Leaping from beam to beam, he followed the guard all the way to the centre of the long hall, where a cluster of guards stood uneasily before a set of large, mahogany doors that were engraved with swirling vines and pockets of glistening gems. When the guard Pan had followed joined ranks with the others, a gentle silence fell over them.

Crouched above on a wide beam, Pan contemplated how he would get past them and into the quarters beyond. A sudden idea struck him and he slipped his hand to his side and pulled a small silver coin from